


Salirophilia

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: BDSM, Come Marking, Comeplay, Dom/sub, M/M, Salirophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: He wants to suck Scott into his mouth so badly, wants to satisfy the craving brought on by Scott’s musky scent with the taste of his skin and his come, but it’s not about what he wants. This is about what Scott wants, and Scott doesn’t want him to taste.





	

Scott’s cock is dripping with lube and precome, a tantalizing few inches from Mitch’s face, but he’s content to wait. Content? Commanded. From this angle, on the floor with Scott standing over him, he can barely see Scott’s face. All of his attention is focused on Scott’s cock, on Scott’s hand moving around his cock. On the little flecks of moisture and the dark smear of the tattoos on Scott’s long fingers. His cock is flushed deeply, indescribably sexy in contrast to Scott’s pale hands, thighs, the light, ginger hair curling around the base. Mitch’s mouth waters. He closes his lips and swallows.

He wants to suck Scott into his mouth so badly, wants to satisfy the craving brought on by Scott’s musky scent with the taste of his skin and his come, but it’s not about what he wants. This is about what Scott wants, and Scott doesn’t want him to taste. Mitch has to focus on Scott’s words, his murmured, gasped, hissed fantasies, to keep from resenting the denial.

“Lie back,” Scott tells him, and Mitch leans backward, catching himself on his elbows, half-reclined on the floor, stretching his legs out. He can see more of Scott’s face now, more of his predatory gaze and the twisted snarl of his open lips. He can see Scott’s left hand moving across his chest, teasing his own nipples, stroking across his pecs, his abs, rubbing into the dips of his muscles, like—like Mitch would do, like Mitch wants to do.

With his arms back and his head tilted up, Mitch’s top gapes around his neck, the stiff collar creased open to expose his clavicles and part of his shoulders. The sudden rush of cooler air on his skin makes him shiver and his mouth opens in a soft gasp.

Scott echoes him, gasping audibly and groaning. His hand twists around his cock, squeezing and teasing, and Mitch licks his lips. He wants to taste. He wants to _suck_.

Scott wants him to wait.

Scott wants him to be still and silent and pretty like a picture.

Scott wants to ruin him.

“Fuck,” Scott whispers. Mitch closes his eyes.

His come splatters across Mitch’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Another spurt catches Mitch’s forehead and his eyebrow. Mitch wants to see, wants to see Scott’s face as he comes, wants to see everything, but as it streaks across his face, drips down his cheeks, he’s afraid to open his eyes. He tilts his head further back, so tempted to open his mouth and lick his lips for a taste, just a tiny taste, but that’s not what Scott wants.

Keeping his mouth closed stretches his neck taut, and a thick dribble of come crawls sluggishly down the side of his throat. Mitch is breathing hard through his nose, waiting. Waiting. Scott hasn’t told him to move yet.

Scott’s breathing hard too. He pushes his fingers through Mitch’s hair and yanks him upright. He presses his cock flat against Mitch’s cheek, dragging through the smears of come and spreading it, rubbing it into Mitch’s skin. Scott’s cock feels like a brand, fire and iron and an indelible mark right on Mitch’s face, making it clear to anyone who looks at him that he’s owned.

Mitch gasps, a shuddering sob that he can’t hold in any longer, and Scott finally releases him. Mitch falls back to his elbows. His abs are weak, unable to hold him, and his arms are shaking like he’s the one who just had an overwhelmingly powerful orgasm.

“Look at me,” Scott says through panting breaths.

Mitch blinks a few times. His eyelashes are heavy with Scott’s come, sticking together and blurring his vision. He looks up at Scott and can just make out the proud, smug smile twisting Scott’s lips.

Scott dips his head in a slight, satisfied nod. “That’s better.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
